Shadow Fall (The Shadow Saga) (33 page)

301
HAD SPENT THE
better part of an hour with his hands beneath the faucet, scrubbing his skin raw with scalding hot water. The caked blood had fallen away long before, but he couldn’t shake the notion of his hands being stained with red. And indeed there was a taint, though it might have come more from the scrubbing now than the blood.

But he didn’t care about the pain of losing a layer of skin. The only thing he could see were the unfocused eyes of that teenage girl, staring at him unseeing, the soul that had once dwelt behind them dispatched by his instinctual rage.

You will carry her with you for the rest of your life
.

He abruptly stopped washing his hands and turned off the faucet. Curls of steam rose from the sink to fog up the mirror, and he reached up to wipe the condensation away. He stared into his own reflection, seeing there not a man, but a monster; a monster that deserved to die.

Without thinking he balled his hand into a fist and launched it into the mirror, shattering the glass at the point of impact. Pain shot through his knuckles and into his arm, joining with the dull ache of his half-healed left shoulder before bouncing back sharply to his hand. He pulled away from the shattered glass, his hand once again covered in blood—this time his own. The glass had cut but not punctured him—luckily—but it was a distant thought, as the pain was distant.

He leaned against the sink, allowing the trickle of blood from his hand to flow down the side of the white porcelain to the drain. This blood he should not wash away. This was the blood that should have been drawn. His were the eyes that should have stared unseeing, and his the body that should have been taken away and destroyed.

Such is war
, a part of him argued.
Some live and some die. That’s how it has always been…how it always will be
.

“No,” he shook his head as if to dislodge the thought. No matter what he had once believed, he could never view war the same way again. He was not some product of fate, some machine who had no choice in the matter. He could have disarmed that girl instead of attacking, captured her instead of going for the kill. But instead he chose to follow his instincts, to kill her and save himself.

The World System built its machine of war well. Even his partner, who he wanted to believe a good man, did not bat an eye at the girl’s death. Was that what he was meant to become? Was that what he
wanted
to become?

With his unwounded hand, 301 reached into his pocket and pulled out the blue stone ring. Gazing into its depths he remembered a better time—a simpler time—when he had not known the truth of who he was. When he could dream about the truth, rather that be forced to face it. During that time the brutality of life as a Great Army soldier had not mattered, for how could he have been any better than what he was? Wasn’t this—with all its flaws and vices—the absolute best version of himself?

He could no longer convince himself of that. The life of a man born to people like Jonathan and Lauren Charity should have been different. Purer. Greater. A man like that should have risen to become something magnificent, something that all others could look to as a shining example of honor, of valor, of justice. His parents had fought for the freedom of the people. That’s what he should have become in their stead.

But he hadn’t. By some cruel twist of fate, he had been absorbed into the World System and become a servant of Napoleon Alexander instead. Depraved, forced to commit unimaginable atrocities just to survive—how far he was from the destiny of that boy…that favored son.

His thoughts at the Silent Thunder base came back to him, that Kacie Jordan had been the first woman—the first child—he had ever killed. But the truth was that he couldn’t be certain of that. On his Wilderness raids, the bullets just flew at random. There were no targets, not really. Their mission was just to mow them all down.

During which he almost always closed his eyes.

But now his eyes were open, and he could never close them again.

It was like that story Grace had told him all those weeks ago, about the King and his rebellious kingdom. All those who had been a part of the rebellion—who made war against honor, justice, and love, were condemned to die. They had ruined the kingdom and welcomed darkness into their midst. But some…some had wanted to be restored.

Is that what he wanted? To be restored?
Could
he be?

“It’s time to go,” Eli said at his side. “We are not supposed to be here any more.”

“Then where?” he whispered. “Where can I go now, after all I’ve done?”

“You know where,” Eli nodded. “We have to follow the dark path. At the end of it, we’ll find her. She’ll help us.”

I can’t face her
, 301 thought, giving in to the same panic that nearly overcame him in that tunnel.
She will not look at me the same way…and why should she?

But he couldn’t stay in the World System. That man who could blindly follow orders, no matter how severe, was gone. So he could go, leave the city and take his chances in the Wilderness—though from Grace’s stories, he doubted he could survive on his own. Or, he could turn himself in to Silent Thunder and face their justice.

He placed the ring back in his pocket and ran warm water over his hand. It would need to be bandaged later, but for now it was just a minor issue. He needed to get out of the Spire and back to that Silent Thunder compound. Grace would know that the burned landline left them exposed, and the entire force could be moving on soon. After that, he might never find her.

She might not take him, but he had to try.

301 looked down at Eli, and despite the odd notion that he might simply be talking to himself, he spoke, “Let’s go.”

-X-

Admiral McCall rubbed his tired eyes as he strode down the hallways of the Spire, and took a moment to check his watch. It was that time of year when night seemed to stretch abnormally long. Evening had barely begun, though it felt closer to midnight. Perhaps he was simply getting old.

“…figured you would want to get a look at the new recruits,” Specter Marcus said at his side. “The first wave arrived about an hour ago. Dodson is initiating them now. The rest should arrive from the remaining divisions on into the night.”

McCall nodded, “Good. The MWR wants them operational as soon as possible. Begin with—” The admiral cut off as 301 rounded the corner in front of him, wearing a determined expression as he headed back toward the exit. He passed them with barely a nod, and McCall’s eyes narrowed.

“Give me a moment, Specter,” he said to Marcus.

“Of course, sir,” he nodded. “You know where I’ll be.”

The admiral walked briskly after 301, “Specter Captain. A word?”

For a moment he thought 301 might not stop, but then he slowed with obvious reluctance and turned, “What is it, Admiral? Another impending disaster?”

McCall smiled, “No, nothing like that. Just on my way to see the new recruits. Very promising, so I understand. I only wish they could spend more time with you and Blaine.”

“I’m sure Marcus and Dodson will do just fine,” 301 replied, tapping his foot impatiently. “You look tired, Admiral. Perhaps you should get some rest.”

“I’ll be alright, Captain. I stopped you because there’s something very important that I think you should hear.”

“I’m listening.”

“Matron Young is dying.” McCall paused, and when 301 did not respond he went on, “And she has requested an audience with you.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know. But out of all the children who graduated from her program, she chose to contact you. Whatever it is, it must be important.”

The Specter Captain’s expression turned grim, “I have a lot on my plate right now, Admiral. I might have to pass on that invitation.”

“She’s not expected to live beyond the next couple of days, if even that,” McCall said. “You might want to reconsider. It’s your decision, of course. I just hope it’s not one that you’ll regret.”

“I don’t owe that woman anything.”

“No,” the admiral shook his head. “But you may owe it to yourself.”

301 sighed and took a step back toward the door, obviously impatient to leave, “I’ll think about it, Admiral.”

“That’s all I can expect. Where are you hurrying off to at this time of night, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I have a lead,” 301 said quickly, as though the answer had been prepared. “I’m going to investigate.”

“Alone?” McCall crossed his arms. “Do you need any support?”

“No,” 301 snapped, and the admiral could see from the look in the young man’s eyes that he regretted the tone of the reply—not because of disrespect, but because of what it revealed about his mysterious lead. The Specter Captain went on in a more patient voice, “I can handle it. The others have more important matters to deal with right now.”

McCall nodded slowly, “I see.” He paused to make sure the two of them were alone, and then leaned forward, speaking low, “I know what you are going through, Specter Captain. I heard what happened beneath that base, and I have to agree with your partner’s assessment: you did what had to be done…what you were trained to do.” 301 paused, his muscles tense, and the admiral noted his bandaged fist, “That’s small consolation, perhaps, but it was either her…or you.”

“No,” 301 spat. “Neither of us had to die. I could have just stopped her and taken her into custody.”

“And then she still would have died, likely under harsher circumstances.”

“That doesn’t change what I did. What I chose to do.”

“There was nothing you could have done to save her,” McCall said firmly. “Just like there is nothing you can do to save Grace Sawyer.”

The Specter Captain flinched, and for a moment the admiral thought he might draw his Spectral Gladius. But he—thankfully—refrained, content to stare daggers in McCall’s direction, “What makes you think I want to save her?”

“I see it in your eyes, Captain,” McCall replied. “It is the very same look I saw that night in the palace courtyard, when you rescued her from the obscenities of your comrades. It is the same look you wore on the night she escaped, and then again after the Communications Tower, where—despite your encounter on the roof—she mysteriously survived. Love is a powerful thing…worth fighting for. But sooner or later you’re going to have to decide: is it worth dying for?”

301’s stare became vacant as he saw beyond the material world into whatever visions lay within his mind, “I’ll never fight for something I’m not willing to die for, Admiral. Never again.”

“Then you’re lucky,” McCall smiled. “I was a much older man before I made that decision for myself…and I was almost too late.”

“What changed?”

“I saw myself,” McCall replied, suddenly solemn again, “for who I truly was. Mistakes I’d made…actions I could never take back. And then I realized I was not the man I wanted to be. But when we face such choices, there are always consequences to the path we choose, Captain. I hope you’re ready for them.”

“I am.”

McCall nodded, “Then I won’t keep you any longer. If you need assistance—”

“I’ll be fine, Admiral. Thank you.” 301 bowed slightly with respect and continued on his way down the hall toward the exit.

McCall waited for a moment, watching him go, and then turned back in the direction Marcus had gone. But he had no intention of visiting with the new recruits, not now.

He punched in several commands on his watch and turned on his earpiece. After a pause, he spoke, “You were right. Gather the others. Execute your plan.”

28

“A
FTER YOU
.”

General Crenshaw motioned to the ladder underneath the command center, but Grace just stared at him with cool incredulity, “Not yet, Crenshaw. We set conditions for this journey, and you have not yet met your end of the bargain. Before we go up there, I want the answers you promised me.”

“I had hoped you might forget,” he smiled. “But I suppose I should have known better.”

“Why did you really come back?”

Crenshaw sighed and leaned against the stone wall, head tilted back and eyes set on the curved top of the tunnel, “That’s a complicated question, Grace. I came back for many reasons. To return you to your father, for one.”

“I was your ticket in,” Grace replied. “I appreciate you bringing me back, but let’s not pretend it was anything other than that. What was your primary objective in rejoining Silent Thunder?”

“To force 301-14-A’s defection.”

“But even that is not your endgame,” she said. “Otherwise you wouldn’t care if he stayed with the System or came here with us. Why do you really want him there?”

“You’d make a good interrogator.”

“I wouldn’t have to interrogate you, Crenshaw, if you would just tell me what’s really going on here. Is it that you don’t trust me?”

“No,” he shook his head. “Quite the opposite, actually. I hesitate to tell you the full truth because I worry that once you know…you will no longer trust
me
.”

“And knowing you’re keeping secrets that could get us all killed…should
that
make me trust you?”

The general smiled, “Touché, Commander. It has been difficult to keep these things from you, as it was difficult to keep them from your father. Perhaps the time for secrets has ended, at least between us. But once you know, there is no going back, and you will bear the same burden that I have suffered for the last four years. No one else can know what I am about to tell you. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”